


Five, four, three, two, one.

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: A shameless vent fic about the Christiansen kids??? More likely than you think, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Cult Ending (Dream Daddy), Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied Cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, No Dialogue, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:21:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: He holds the gun against my headI close my eyes and bang I'm deadI know he knows that he’s killing me for mercyAnd here I goAnd here I goHe holds my body in his armsHe didn't mean to do no harmAnd he holds me tightOh, he did it all to spare me from the awful things in life that comesAnd he cries and cries





	Five, four, three, two, one.

**Author's Note:**

> Explanation of the universe - basically, a exploration of the scrapped(?) cult ending, in which the kids are sentient, normal(ish) kids, through the eyes of Christie.

_Five,_

You don't remember how it happens, at first, you don't remember when you first realize there's something wrong with your family, with you, with _him_. You're mom is disinterested, always, drinking that red stuff that looks a little too much like blood and leaves you dizzy when you smell it. You don't think much of it, though, simply tugging on her skirt, and she looks down at you, disgust on her face as she brushes you off for more of her funny drink. You're hurt, of course, but used to it, so you shrug it off, face becoming just a bit more guarded, neutral. From across the lawn you can see Craig playing with his own twins, eyes sparkling as they hang onto him. You wonder if anyone would do that for you, and you're almost mad at these twins, and their dad, for having something you don't. When you see Craig drop a stuffed cadaver, you grab it, and _cut_.

_Four,_

You're playing with Christian, a smile on your face, as you move your hair, trying to get the long hair to look more like his short cut one, so you could pretend to be him just like those other twins do, who you envy so. Suddenly, he frowns, something akin to fear creeping into his blank voice, as he asks what the thing on your neck is. You freeze, hands going to the hickey on the back of your neck, and you curse in your head, eyes shifting away from your brothers imploring gaze.

He gives you a understanding look _—I know what it's like, I understand_ —that makes your heart plummet.

_Three,_

He asks you if you're ok and he's so genuinely concerned it makes you sick, makes you want to _vomit_. He says he loves you, you're his light, the reason he keeps going. He's just protecting you from the world, you understand that, right? You don't. You wonder if your mother's right about him, if he's possessed by a demon that makes him do all these bad things, or if he chooses to himself. You want to ask him why, but you're to scared. You want to hate him, but you find you can't. So as he nibbles on your neck and puts his hands between your thighs, you look away, like a coward. It's better you than one of your siblings, you tell yourself. You think of your older brother, of how he never smiles, hardly speaks, and you wonder. You think of your baby brother in his crib, how he doesn't know at all, innocent, sleeping easily, and you're jealous.

Sometimes you stare at your baby brother and want to strangle him.

_Two,_

You see them press up and kiss each other, and you looks away. Mother is drinking. Lately, you're dad has left you alone. Guess you know why, now.

He ties him up, because despite it all, he is not satisfied, he will never be satisfied.

As he tried to devour this man's heart whole, mother stabs him.

You're hungry, and he is weak.

After his body has grown cold, you run with your siblings, mouths full of blood, shoes falling off and feet becoming callous.

_One,_

You're a teenager, now, years having passed since that day. You've been in foster care, separated from your siblings, but most importantly you're twin. You don't know why you're still here. Sometimes, you can still feel his hands on you. He is your murder, in the end, no matter whose hands take your life away.

You press a gun to your head.

_**Bang.** _

**Author's Note:**

> The gun is gone,  
> And so am I,  
> Here I go.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ( https://youtu.be/ayWFxrrujXs )


End file.
